Two days to the third of the sixteenth
Way beyond my twenty-first
Almost to the twenty-second
= Wondering why it's all circles
With me looping all over the same
Tiring antics of life
= Concluding that ties are the cause
Of the most exhausting emotions
In living this existence
= Escaping what's in front of me
Thinking that I could do better
Have I been granted wings
(With the ability to direct the
way the air blows)
= Breathing in gaps and in depths
Thrusting my diaphragm for air
Because I am falling short of it
= Wishing that everything is reversible
Or convertible at the very best
That things could be more acceptable
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